


appear before you virgin white

by orphan_account



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-08
Updated: 2010-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walt talks to him all the time, and laughs at his jokes, sometimes, and comes across as all cornfed country boy sweet, which makes his mouth even more pornographic, the swipe of his tongue over those lips the hottest thing in a country that isn't anything but hot, sandblasted and sunburnt and awful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	appear before you virgin white

When in the midst of ripped fuel haze and the long suck of sleep-deprivation and too much sand, Ray starts looking maybe a little too intently on Hasser's lips, it's not really a big deal. His porn has gotten grimy with sand and come, and the prettiest thing in the entire country seems to be his LT, which is a damn crying shame, mostly because Brad seems to have gotten to that first, or will get to that, whichever, Ray's not asking and Brad's not telling.

Walt takes a close second, mostly because his lips remind Ray of home, of pretty girls with too much lipgloss who roll their eyes when Ray offers to buy them a drink, like talking to him for ten fucking minutes would be a waste of their time.

Walt talks to him all the time, and laughs at his jokes, sometimes, and comes across as all cornfed country boy sweet, which makes his mouth even more pornographic, the swipe of his tongue over those lips the hottest thing in a country that isn't anything but hot, sandblasted and sunburnt and awful.

But Walt's hot in the good way, the kind of hot that doesn't know it is, the kind of hot that has no fucking idea Ray's watching his mouth and getting all sorts of ideas that are against every single rule in the playbook.

Basically, sometime around when Ray is doing about everything to make Walt smile just for the crinkle around his eyes, and trying to make him laugh for the uncontrolled snort, bright and childish, he figures he has a problem, because he doesn't think he'd be trying to get the pornstars who've been relegated to the background of his fantasies to laugh, no matter how amazing their tits are. Walt has none, not a single curve, just all hard lines and those perfect fucking lips, and the scary thing is that Ray doesn't even care at this point.

And it's obvious, it's so fucking obvious that when Walt disappears on fifty percent watch that he isn't a part of that he's off to do things that Ray's been thinking of just a little too much, and it's obvious to Ray that the best damn thing he could do is follow, because right now he doesn't care about regs or anything, he just wants to see what Walt looks like when he comes, because that'll make his fantasies just a little bit more realistic, and if there's anything Ray believes in, it's realism. Sometimes. Okay, in this case only, but Ray's already made a lot of exceptions for Walt, he thinks he's allowed to make one more.

It shouldn't be a surprise to see Walt standing out alone, the only sight other than a fuckton of sand, his hand down his MOPP, it only half-shucked, like he couldn't spare the time to do this right, like it didn't matter how good it was as long as he got his balls just a little less blue, as long as he didn't get caught with his pants down, his hand tight around his cock.

And it's such a crying shame, because Ray can't see, Ray doesn't get to see, and because of that, because there isn't anything to see, not yet, he comes closer, until Walt whips around, hand flying up and going straight to his weapon, tensing like Ray's a fucking Hajji.

Ray puts his hands up. "Whatever homes," he says. "Go right ahead, don't let me stop you."

Walt looks at him for a second, a look Ray can't figure out, which is weird, because Walt's a pretty easy guy to pin usually. But then he's sliding his hand back in, nothing Ray can see, but it's fine, it's enough to know that Walt's got his hand fisted around his cock, his eyes on Ray, that's just fucking fine, that'll carry Ray through the rest of this buttfuck mission, because it's better than everything he'd been thinking somehow.

Ray steps forward, and Walt doesn't take his hand out, doesn't when Ray's just a step away, close enough to see a grain of sand caught on Walt's lips, the way his jaw is tensed, flexing, the way his throat moves when he swallows. And jesus fucking christ.

"You ever suck cock before?" Ray asks, and Walt's 'no', just the wrong side of breathless, should be disappointing, but isn't, because Walt's eyes have gone all dark, and his hand is down his MOPP, and he smells just about as bad as they all do, face grimed with sweat and sand, but that doesn't mean Ray doesn't want to lick him.

"That is such a fucking shame," Ray says, because the idea that Walt's been running around with those lips all his life without wrapping them around anyone's cock is just a waste.

"Have you?" Walt asks, then adds "sucked cock," like he wasn't sure if Ray got it, and it's dark, but Ray is still pretty sure Walt is blushing, which is both retarded and adorable all at the same time.

"Dude," Ray says, "We have this thing called "don't ask don't tell". You perv."

"Fuck you, Person," Walt says, still breathless, but he's shifting away from him now, and starting to tug his hand out, and that is just not on for many, many reasons, some of which Ray is not going to admit ever.

"Well," Ray says, scooting closer to Walt to break the distance. "You offering?" He waggles his eyebrows.

Walt's eyes are big, with just a sliver of blue around the rims, and his cheeks are flushed, and his mouth is bitten red, and Ray doesn't think he's ever wanted to fuck anyone more in his entire life, and that includes all of his experiences with hot, desperate girls at raves. Which is saying a _lot_.

"Jesus," Ray says, and he kisses him because he thinks he might just die if he doesn't, thinks whatever happens if he doesn't kiss Walt right this fucking second is worse than getting caught, worse than anything he can think of.

Walt's mouth doesn't move against his at first, stunned still, and then he's moving all at once, his hand fisted in Ray's MOPP, his tongue sliding over the seam of Ray's lips, and jesus, his _tongue_. Ray has had so many fucking fantasies about that tongue.

What they're doing is the height of stupid, Ray knows it's the height of stupid, but Walt's mouth is hot and wet against his, just about the only fucking wet thing in this godforsaken desert, and Ray wants skin, Ray wants Walt pressed under him on clean sheets with some proper lighting and an actual shower to get the dirt off them, but right now he wants skin, because that's about the only thing he can remember wanting, his days full of want and not getting anything, and forgetting how to want, forgetting what it means to want something and have it. And now Ray wants skin.

"We should stop," Ray mumbles against Walt's mouth, because his mouth is traitor, his mouth is doing things like being selfless and giving Walt an out, giving them both an out before someone stumbles on them and they both get their asses court-martialed. Ray's mouth is traitor, but it doesn't matter, because Walt isn't listening to him anyway, which is a good choice, Ray doesn't have anything important to say most of the time, and this is definitely something to ignore, something that Ray doesn't want.

Walt ignores him, hands everywhere, and Ray knows Walt has clever hands, he's seen what those hands can do with a gun, but right now Walt isn't anything but clumsy, hands everywhere, trying to get under stubborn fabric and not managing. Ray helps, because Ray's selfless, he is, and if Walt wants skin, well, that just conveniently happens to be exactly what Ray wants too.

Once Ray steps in, it's easy, almost easy, until they've got their MOPPs shoved down around their knees, and then it's just a matter of shoving Walt's briefs down, even easier, and Ray's got his hand on Walt's cock, hot and wet on the tip, and Ray didn't even know how much he wanted this until he got it, Walt making a sound, choked, into his mouth, and Ray's hand moving on him, too dry, maybe, but Walt isn't complaining.

Walt comes fast, like he hasn't gotten some in forever, and he hasn't, none of them have, except the quick combat jack when there's an opportunity. He comes hot and wet against Ray's hand, teeth leaving an imprint on Ray's lip, and then, before Ray can even think to wipe his hand off, let go of Walt's cock, before Ray can think of doing anything, Walt's dropping to his knees.

Walt's got his mouth around Ray's cock before Ray can even think, and that's clumsy too, clumsy because it's Walt's first time doing this, jesus, it's Walt's _first time_, and his teeth drag against Ray's cock at one point, the wrong side of painful, but his mouth is like fire, and his lips are stretched around Ray's cock like every single fantasy he's had since he lost his mind, and it's the best thing that's ever happened to Ray, he thinks, Walt's mouth stretched obscene and red around him.

Ray doesn't last, he can't last, not with things like this, all the things he wanted and knew he couldn't have and somehow got anyway. He doesn't last, and he tries to tug Walt off him, but Walt stays, stubborn and swallowing around him until he's pulling off, coughing a little, spitting Ray's come onto the sand.

"Jesus," Ray says, looking down, until Walt gets up, trying to get rid of the sand on his knees and only spreading it around, tugging at his MOPP until he looks like something less obscene, looks more like a soldier and less like a porn star dressed like a soldier. Less, but not by much. "Jesus," Ray repeats, the whole suit still around his knees, and Walt grins, a flash of white in the dark, almost shy, and says "I can't believe I found a way to shut you up."

Ray stares at him. Honestly, he can't think of any extra words right now. There's just _jesus_, and a whole mess of thoughts that can't make the distance from his head to his mouth.

"Get dressed, Person," Walt says, then ducks his head, shy again, thumb rubbing against Ray's hip before he pulls back entirely. "Next time's your turn."


End file.
